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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355064">Blushing Bat-Bride</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage'>scandalsavage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Killing Joke (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Collars, F/M, Fake Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Gun Kink, Humiliation, Imprisonment, Kinda, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Paralysis, Past Rape/Non-con, Public Sex, Rope Bondage, Violence, more like Capture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:27:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Panic builds slowly over long seconds as the realization that she’s been completely stripped settles in her mind. She tries to push down the memories, the flashbacks, of the last time she lied naked and helpless on the floor, that threaten overwhelm her but the drug makes it impossible.</p><p><i>It’s not the same-it’s not the same-it’s not the same,</i> she tells herself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barbara Gordon/Joker (DCU)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blushing Bat-Bride</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Lemon_Pit/gifts">Dirty_Lemon_Pit</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I used <i>The Killing Joke</i> as-is for the background and Batgirl’s <i>Death of the Family</i> story with some license for this. I had a much bigger, more fucked up thing planned for this and I’m sorry it didn’t turn out quite the way I wanted but I hope you still like it and it scratched that itch. There really should be more Babs/Joker.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Before she even tries to drag her eyelids open, Barbara knows something is very, very wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fuzzy fog of some kind of drug makes her mind feel heavy, sluggish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a sensation she’s used to. Most of the time the rest of her is struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire progression of her thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Precious moments tick by as she slogs through the haze, slowly assessing her situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drugged, obviously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiff and sore, sluggishly bleeding wounds but nothing life-threatening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms bound behind her, elbows to fingertips, so tightly she can already feel the tingle of impeded circulation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gag. Feels like a ball gag. Original.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moldy, musty smell of dilapidation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cold, damp air prickling her skin…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic builds slowly over long seconds as the realization that she’s been completely stripped settles in her mind. She tries to push down the memories, the flashbacks, of the last time she lied naked and helpless on the floor, that threaten overwhelm her but the drug makes it impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not the same-it’s not the same-it’s not the same,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she tells herself. Back then she couldn’t…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Couldn’t feel her legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She can’t feel her legs. She can’t feel anything below her waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The implant, it must have failed or--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>darling</span>
  </em>
  <span>! You’re finally awake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiar, high-pitched nasally voice is stronger than any drug. Barbara’s eyes snap open as her pulse leaps into overdrive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker’s ruined, rotted face hovers so close she can smell the still decomposing flesh. Her memory tries to substitute something less repulsive but what it calls to mind, the sickly pale elongated face and blood-red lips, the gaudy blue hawaiian shirt, purple hat and matching gloves tugging on the buttons of her blouse… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...fingers cold as death dragging over he heated, blood-soaked flesh…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not any better. She tries to retch but all that comes up is bile that burns her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiar touch of those fingers on her chin makes her blood freeze and brain screech to a halt in self-defense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, sleepy head,” Joker laughs. “I thought you’d sleep away the whole honeymoon!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Honeymoon??</span>
  </em>
  <span> Repulsion flares again but there is too much happening all at once and Barbara’s attention is quickly jerked to a more pressing concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soft snickers alert her to the fact that apparently she and Joker are not alone. Instinctively, she tries to curl in on herself, hide herself from their audience. But with the way she’s bound and her once again restricted mobility, she can’t do much more than roll her shoulders forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, ah, ah shnookums,” Joker sing-songs, chilly fingers sliding up the curve of her waist, up, up, up, to cup around the swell of her breast before pinching down on a cold-hardened nipple. “No need to be shy! Most these clowns remember you from our first date anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker’s high pitched, manic cackle echoes through the abandoned, crumbling… church.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara cringes. Hearing the bastard refer to when he shot her through the spine and… </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span>... hearing him call it a date, on top of having her in the same position, minus a pool of blood but plus a church and comments about a honeymoon that don’t actually sound like jokes… make her want to rip that stupid, disgusting face off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to breathe through the sudden block in her chest. Tears slip past her lashes and she wishes she could make them stop, be strong, fight through the panic and the drugs making it hard to assess the situation and plan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The long skinny fingers of Joker’s free hand twist into Barbara’s tangled, sweat-damp hair and jerk her upright by the long red locks. She lets out a cry of pained protest, muffled by the gag, as strands of hair pull away from her scalp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Babsy, I--</span>
  <em>
    <span>hey!</span>
  </em>
  <span> ‘Babsy’ sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> like ‘Batsy’!” Another burst of manic laughter. “My two favorite playdates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drags her deeper into the room, towards the center, while she tries to struggle the best she can, jerking and thrashing her upper body weakly; trying to find some slack in the rough ropes around her arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They come to a jarring halt. Barbara chokes as the previously unnoticed metal band around her throat snags on it’s previously unnoticed chain. She tries to sputter, tries to gasp in air, but the gag makes it impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like your ring, Babsy-baby?” Joker coos, hooking two fingers under the collar and tugging it tighter. “I knew I couldn’t settle for just any old thing. Our relationship has had rough patches, it’s true. You had to know how committed I was to making you mine forever and ever!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara flinches when Joker’s hand moves to stroke along the length of leather stretching across her cheek, around to the back of her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the other hand raises, wrapped casually around the grip of a familiar firearm, one that still haunts Barbara’s nightmares even now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tries to scoot away from it, more tears streaming down her face, but the Joker holds her firmly in place by her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barrel drags across her overheated cheek, following the line of the gag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s time to consummate our union, sweetcheeks. I thought it’d be nice to revisit our first time. It was so lovely. You, just lying there, helpless to resist my charms. Your old man, tears of joy streaming down his face. And there I was, thinking he never approved of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker uses the gun to dab at a fake, non-existent tear and Barbara is torn between hoping it’s loaded and he accidentally shoots himself, and praying that it’s not, so that he doesn’t shoot her when he inevitably uses it, accidentally or otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because… if this is going to be like the last time… Joker </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be using it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the gag snaps free and drops into her lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You bastard,“ is all she manages to get out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The back of Joker’s hand cracks across her face and Barbara tastes blood. She manages to spit it out before long fingers grip her chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry baby but you forced my hand. You know I only hit because I care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara’s lip curls in hatred but before she can retort, the barrel of the pistol that once paralyzed her is shoved roughly between her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The metal clacks against her teeth so hard she thinks they might have chipped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slick it up for me, baby,” Joker hisses, dropping into a more menacing and less faux-happy tone. “And do a good job ‘cause it’s all you’re gonna get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gun slides over her tongue and down her throat, metal and the lingering chemical flavor of cleaner a rancid taste. Then it’s pulled back before forced back in, deeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hates herself but, between the knowledge of what’s to come and the drug keeping her off balance, Barbara hollows her cheeks and sucks on the barrel, trying to coat it in as much saliva as she can for whatever the Joker has in store for her next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chokes and gags and she had almost forgotten about the Joker’s clown-faced goons lining the edges of the room until the laughter and jeering starts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lips like that were fucking made to be wrapped around a cock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit man, they look real nice stretched ‘round that gun too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think the boss will share?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t see why not. He did the last time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bitch that fine, I’ll happily take sloppy seconds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara tries to tune them out but it’s impossible. Flashes of before, of lying in her own blood, stripped, her father crying and turned away as Joker rutted into her before leaving her to his men… it’s all mingling horribly with the present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>History seems to be repeating itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only break she caught is that her father isn’t here this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems like an eternity the Joker forces the gun in and out of her mouth. She tries not to look at him but on her few stolen glances, she’s found him watching her face in rapt, gleeful attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the gun is finally yanked away, Barbara heaves for air. But she doesn’t have any time to catch her breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment to realize that the Joker has forced the gun up her cunt. She’s aware of the movement of his arm. There’s an almost numb sensation before the force of a thrust inside her jars her whole body, sliding her along the floor. There’s the odd </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span> that something is happening that she should be able to feel but all that makes itself known is that there is a heavy, dulled weight inside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then something horrifying happens. A cruel twist of fate deciding that everything that has happened to her isn’t enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, something lights inside of her. Something warm and pleasant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arousal. Stimulation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before her implant, Barbara had still had a healthy, pleasurable sex life. It’d just been a little harder, she’d needed more foreplay. Even when she’d been with people she loved, who loved her and knew what made her body tick, it had never been easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had never been </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drug. It must be the drug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way her body responds to sexual stimuli below her waist was significantly altered when a bullet went through her spine. It took a while to figure out, for her nervous system to reorganize its signals. Even after the implant, the tech had given her back the use of her legs, but it hadn’t actually healed anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when the Joker sings “Such soft skin, it’d look so pretty in acid-wash white,” and drags his knuckles over her belly, just above her injury, Barbara spasms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gasping for breath, she presses her shoulders against the ground and arches up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her skin flushes and goosebumps erupt all along the trail of Joker’s touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking hell…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did she just come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy fuck, this bitch is a freak. She just got off on being fucked by a gun…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her old man is the commissioner. Course the bitch gets off on guns.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that I’ve got you all relaxed,” Joker’s voice cuts through the others. “My turn!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than anything, it’s the cold. The Joker looks like death and feels just as icy. She knows when his cock touches too her entrance by the chill that spreads from that point up to the top of her head and down to the bottoms of her toes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please—“ She sobs, knowing it’s useless. Knowing her pleas fall on deaf, merciless ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sweet bride,” Joker hums instead, pushing deeper into her. “Begging for more already. What a brilliant wife you’ll be, my dearest Babsy-wabsy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he starts thrusting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barbara screws her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see him and tries to twist her arms enough to find an opening or a weakness in the ropes binding her arms, knowing that it’s wishful thinking. She wishes she could stop breathing so she couldn’t smell the lingering scent of rott that clings to the Joker’s stupid face. Wishes she could plug her ears so she didn’t have to hear the commentary from the clowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn look at her tits bounce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s so fucking wet I bet you could fit another two cocks in the slut’s pussy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dibs if he lets us have a go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seconded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, I’d rather turn her over like a bitch and fuck that tight ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another small eternity, the gun is brought back to Barbara’s lips. She shakes her head, trying to refuse. She can smell herself on it now, can see the glisten of her own slick over the matte of the barrel. But once more, it’s forced past her lips. Fucked in and out of her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The motion above her goes frantic and erratic. Joker’s free hand starts moving over Barbara’s body, stopping to pay special attention to any spot that makes her breath hitch. He tugs on her nipples and mouths at her collarbone and her body responds without permission making her cry harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But in the end, it’s that same soft touch just above the lack of sensation where her nerves are most sensitive, that pushes her over the edge of a cliff she never wanted to be on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sobs as she comes again. Feels the Joker still above her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must’ve finished too. Blessedly, she didn’t feel it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole world goes wide and fuzzy. Barbara feels like she’s looking down on everything from outside her own body. Like this is all happening to someone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Convenient that it happens too late. Sometimes it seems like the universe has it out for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s vaguely aware of the goons talking. Saying more horrible things about all the disgusting stuff they want to do to her, no doubt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t believe you got her all worked up like that boss. Thought for sure she was gonna be a stubborn bitch about it but you made her gush twice without breaking a sweat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker’s blood-red lips grin down at her, the point of his big purple shoe nudging at her bruised and bloodied body, still openly displayed to the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what they say! Happy wife, happy life!”</span>
</p>
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